I like the poetry of William Carlos Williams. He is a Jersey boy like myself, born in 1883 in Rutherford. He went off to medical school at the University of Pennsylvania, but returned home and had a solid medical practice throughout his life. Simultaneously, he was publishing poems, novels, essays, and plays.
His poem “Spring and All,” begins:
By the road to the contagious hospital
under the surge of the blue
mottled clouds driven from the
northeast—a cold wind.
It was written just a short time after the publication of T. S. Eliot‘s “The Waste Land.” Both poems open with a rather unpleasant spring season. Eliot wrote that:
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
I am feeling more optimistic about the new season, so I am more in a mood for an E.E. Cummings kind of spring.
whistles far and wee